


Spin

by acidtowns



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, single! dad Midorma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-25 20:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3823141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidtowns/pseuds/acidtowns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High school is over, basketball is dead. Midorima becomes a single-father doctor; Takao, a juvenile defense lawyer. Four cities away, four years apart. They weren’t meant to cross paths again, but then fate decided to take a spin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Midorima knew something was off the first time it happened.

Saturday afternoon, mid-June. It was warm. A bit breezy, a little cloudy, admittedly, but warm nonetheless. He had just gotten out of work, and though he felt like going home and winding down in the comforts of his bathtub, he didn’t want a free afternoon to go to waste. So he decided to take his spitting image of a son (yes, green hair, glasses, and all) out to dinner. Two years ago, these dinners were the usual weekend rituals. He, along with his spouse and son, would go out to a semi-fancy restaurant and treat themselves for a week well-done. At that time, he had no worries; he was working residency at a local hospital, and she was staying at home with their kid. It was the simple, quiet life that he had always wanted — but then she left. Sunday night, mid-October. It was cold.

To say that times hadn’t been hard since then would be the truest understatement. Sure, two years had gotten him in routine of going to work and coming back in time to tuck his son in, but those two years had changed too much. The usual weekend outing had dwindled down to once or twice a month; and the time spent together had declined to those mere hours. He had to hire a babysitter to take his spouse’s place. Despite all of this, his son had not shown any hint of disdain towards his minimal availability and her abrupt departure.

_Everything’s fine_. That was, undeniably so, a silly belief, but it was the one recurring thought that came to him whenever he would take his son out to dinner. _Everything’s fine like this_. These dinners were pitiful attempts to remind his son that he still had a father, but these dinners were all Midorima could afford to do. Perhaps if they had dinner more often together, he wouldn’t get this sense of failure, but because they hadn’t, that sensation was all that he could feel.

When _it_ first happened, Midorima couldn’t pinpoint why he felt so uncomfortable. It was just another warm afternoon, just another expensive dinner. He sat there, lucky item on his left, silverware on his right. He had just placed an order for two bowls of udon — a large for him, a kid size for his son. While they waited, they made small talk. _How was your day at school_? _Did you do your homework yet_? Then silence. They never really had much to talk about; mere chit chats about his work was far too advance for a six-year-old, and the questions about school never really held interest.

This time, though, the silence didn’t linger long. The topic of lucky items came up, and that led to his son digging through his backpack to retrieve a pair of bright yellow scissors.

“Shou,” Midorima began, eyes narrowing ever so slightly on the pair. “Where did you get that?” Granted, that wasn’t the proper response to his son showing him his lucky item, but it was a question he had to ask, because he had never seen those scissors before.

“I got them from Nee-chan.” Shou held them out. “Snip, snip. See?”

“Did you ask her if you could borrow them?”

Though Shou nodded his head _yes_ , Midorima still felt a sinking discomfort. He wasn’t entirely sure what brought this feeling on, but he knew it wasn’t a good one.

It wasn’t the last time he felt that sinking discomfort either. Over the next couple of years, whenever Shou showed up with a lucky item that Midorima hadn’t given him the night prior (Shou was getting older, so Midorima wanted him to gradually find his own lucky items), Midorima would feel _off_. It was an indescribable sensation, because it wasn’t the items that bothered him. It wasn’t even Nee-chan, Shou’s babysitter and apparent supplier of these items, that bothered him. It was something else.

Something that he should have picked up on earlier.

.

.

.

“Is this Midorima Shintarou?”

The voice is gruff — strained, almost. If Midorima hadn’t picked up on the man’s authoritative tone, he would’ve assumed that this caller was just a sick person who needed to make an appointment with him.

“Yes,” he answers. “How can I help you?”

There’s a scuffle on the other end, then the man comes back to say, “Your son, Midorima Shou, is being held at the police station. We need you to come immediately to discuss …”

Although he continues talking, his words fade to murmurs in Midorima’s ear.

_Shou is at the police station_.

His thoughts race, his heart slows. A lump sits at the base of his throat, willing him to keep his mouth shut from asking _that one question_ — but he can’t stay quiet: “Is he hurt?” When those words tumble out of his mouth, his eyes flicker over to the corner of his desk where a small wood carving of a chipmunk sits idly. That’s his lucky item. Cancer’s ranked second today. He has done everything he can yet — “ _What happened_?”

“Your son is all right, but we would like to speak with you about him.”

A wave of relief caresses his sweaty palms as he utters “I’ll be there soon” into the phone, then hangs up. Shou isn’t hurt, but _what did he do_? He has never posed a problem before; he eats his vegetables, goes to bed on time, gets up for school and comes home with his Nee-chan, who would look after him until Midorima gets back from work —

Just _what happened_?

Every horrid possibility crosses his mind as he leaves the hospital with a hasty farewell. He knows that Shou and Nee-chan are probably okay, and he’s only overreacting, but this has never happened before so he’s not entirely sure _what_ to think. Perhaps Nee-chan lost sight of Shou, and Shou had, defiantly so, ran around trying to find her and found a police officer instead. Yes, that’s probably what happened.

But that isn’t what happened.

It’s not even close to what happened.

“Your son,” the officer drawls as Midorima takes a seat in front of him, “has a problem. We were going to let him off on a warning when another officer recognized him.” He leans back and reaches up to twist his horribly groomed moustache. “Midorima Shou? Very smart child you have there. Very _smart_. Almost outsmarted an officer earlier. If it wasn’t for your genes, we wouldn’t have recognized him, _hm_.”

The corner of Midorima’s mouth twitches. “What’s the problem you wanted to discuss?”

“Surprising you haven’t heard of it. Guess it’s because we always catch him with her.” The officer stops twisting his moustache to point at Nee-chan, who’s sitting on the other side of the glass window. She’s chewing on her nails and looking around nervously. When her gaze catches Midorima’s own, her mouth flaps an apology but it goes unheard. The officer ignores her and turns back to Midorima. “This isn’t the first time. Unfortunately, it’s not the second time either.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your son is a compulsive thief.”

Midorima leans forward. “Excuse me?”

“Your son steals,” the officer repeats with a slight huff. “Apparently he’s been caught numerous times by other fellow officers, but he’s never been brought in, because they’ve been giving him warnings. I’m in no position to judge you, Doctor, but you should control your boy more. If he got away today, he would have been stealing around five thousand yen.”

This time when Midorima looks out the glass window, he sees his son sitting to the side, head dipped low, green hair shielding green eyes from obvious shame. His small hand clenches Nee-chan’s tightly, and the two of them cower with subtle trembles. Midorima grits his teeth, wonders who he should lecture first, but in the end, figures it’s futile to yell at anyone. The officer’s right. He should have raised his son better.

“I’ll pay for the damage.”

Before he can reach into his back pocket to retrieve his wallet, the officer stops him with a hand and a shake of the head.

“Doesn’t work that way. We’ve returned the item, so there’s no need for monetary payment. Now, since your son’s still a minor, we can’t really convict him, but this charge will go onto his records and if he does it again, we’ll have a problem.” The officer pushes a packet of paper towards him. “We’ve already made the referrals to the Juvenile Center and —”

“You said this was on his records?”

“That’s right.”

“How do I get rid of that?”

Shou is only nine. He doesn’t need to have a _record_ this early on in life. Not to mention, once and _if_ his family finds out, that’ll be another thing they’ll rag him about. _You can’t even keep a wife. It’s no surprise you can even keep a son_. He could hear those words engraving into his skin, making its mark and burning. They can’t know about this. _They can’t_.

“Get rid of the record? You can’t do that.”

Midorima stands up abruptly, his chair squeaking loudly in the process. “You can.”

“I’m saying you can’t.”

“You don’t know the law well enough, then.”

They hold their grounds, glares unwavering, mouth pressed in a firm line but pursed enough in case either party needs to make a snappy comeback. Seconds tick by before the officer sighs and slouches back in his seat.

“Do you have an attorney for him?”

“No.”

“Well, you need to get one — and a good one, at that. We don’t do expungements unless the offender has shown significant improvement in their behavior, and even then, it’s usually for first time offenders.” The officer quirks an eyebrow. “You’re not going to find someone who’ll take this case for cheap.”

Money, at this moment, isn’t an issue. He might have to cut back on the quality of his lucky items, but that’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make. Besides, he has an attorney in mind and though he’s not entirely sure of this attorney’s credentials, it’s someone he knows he can trust.

“Are we free to go?” he asks the officer.

The officer nods. “Take the packet with you and give the Juvenile Center a call. It’ll help your kid.”

With a nod and a brief word of thanks (that sounds more like a click of tongue than a friendly farewell), Midorima makes his way out of the room. Nee-chan approaches him quickly thereafter and starts babbling apologies and excuses — all of which Midorima cuts off with a cold “be quiet.” He doesn’t know where to begin with her lack of communication, but that conversation is for another time. For now, he needs to make a call.

They board the train in silence. Shou continues to cower behind Nee-chan, and though Midorima wants to tell him that he’s not angry, just disappointed, he can’t find the proper words to forgive him with. So he forgoes that conversation as well and takes out his phone to call that one person.

Seventeenth on his contacts. Second from the bottom. _Forgotten_.

It’s been a good four years since he’s spoken to (and by spoken, he means text) this man. Calling him now might be a bad move on his part, but he doesn’t trust anyone else, especially not since his family name’s in jeopardy.

So he calls that seventeenth contact, and on the second ring, the other line picks up.

“Ah? Shin-chan?”

Four years has deepened the man’s voice and waned the excitement from his tone, but four years is nothing when he still calls Midorima by that stupid nickname.

“Hello? Shin-chan? Are you there? Did you butt-dial me again —”

“Takao.”

“So it is you! Man, I didn’t want to get too excited when Shin-chan’s name flashed across my phone. I mean, jeez. It’s been a long time since I last talked to you. I thought you’d forgotten about me, but here you are, calling me just before I decided to make dinner.”

There’s a happy sigh that Midorima carefully chooses to ignore.

“Anyway, what’s up? You okay? How’s Shou-chan? How old was he when I last saw him? Ahh, he couldn’t even walk! Now he’s probably walking all over you, isn’t he? You spoil him too much!”

“Takao.”

“Hm?”

“Come to Tokyo.”

Perhaps that’s a bit too forward. They haven’t spoken to each other in years, so perhaps he should’ve asked a _bit more nicely_ —

“Ehh? What’s this? Does Shin-chan miss me? I’m so honored!”

“ _Takao_.”

A huff. Then, “Why do you need me to go to Tokyo?”

Words catch in Midorima’s throat as he looks over at Shou.

He should’ve been there for his son — should’ve been a better father.

And well, he can’t change the past, but he can damn well fix the future.

“I need your help,” he tells Takao. “ _Please_.”


	2. Chapter 2

Their relationship, best defined, is an iceberg. On the surface, it’s “Shin-chan” and “shut up, Takao” — perfectly shallow, incredibly flawed. They’re both fine with everyone perceiving their friendly relationship this way, but underneath Takao’s snickers and Midorima’s scoffs is an intimate connection spurred by subtle glances and soundless whispers. Now, it’s important to note that they are not, and have never actually been, friends. Takao may claim otherwise, and Midorima too back then, but at this moment, Midorima refuses to acknowledge Takao as anything more than an acquaintance. It’s not personal; that’s just how it is. Cold.

At 6:15, fifteen minutes after their designated meeting time, Takao shows up in a two-piece suit and a duffle bag. Midorima has his doubts that Takao actually dresses like this on regular occasions (Takao had never liked dressing formal), but under scrutiny, he supposes that Takao _would_ have to dress like this since he is, after all, a lawyer.

They trade the briefest greeting and the most subtle of glances before Takao squats down in front Shou. After an introduction that consists of Takao recounting on his last memories of Shou from eight years ago, Takao stands and peers over at Midorima.

“He looks just like you.”

“Thank you.”

Midorima doesn’t know what else to say. At the very least, he would hope his son looked like him, else Shou wouldn’t be — well, _his son_. Admittedly, the only difference is Shou’s eyes. Their color sits right in-between green and brown. A hazel, almost, but not quite. The eyes themselves are large, round, and annoyingly innocent. He has seen these eyes before, but the wielder was far from innocent — but now’s not the time to think about that inconsistent time of his life.

“I apologize for calling you out here on short notice,” he starts, taking a seat next to Shou. “I can compensate for your time.”

Takao barks a laugh as he sits down on the other side of the table. “Over a decade and you’re still needlessly spending money.” He waves his hand dismissively. “We can discuss payment later. For now, we have to focus on Shou-chan. I got the general idea over the phone but I need the full story. Shou-chan, can you tell me exactly what happened the day you got caught?”

Shou shifts in his seat and clasps his hands together. His head bows in shame, but his timid yet steady voice exploits a sense of guiltlessness. “I asked Nee-chan to take me to the store. I saw a green pen there, and I .. picked it up.”

“He means he stole it,” Midorima cuts in.

This time, Shou’s voice wavers. “I-I didn’t mean —”

“It’s not his first time, Takao. According to the officer I spoke to, he’s been stealing for a while.” He reaches up, adjusts his glasses. “If I had known earlier, I would’ve stopped him.”

Takao glances from Midorima to Shou. “What made you do it?”

Shou squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. For some time, he says nothing, does nothing. But when Takao asks again, this time gentler, Shou sniffs and peeks through the green bangs that curtain off his full view.

“It was a lucky item.”

“A lucky item? Were they all lucky items?”

It doesn’t take long for Shou to nod this time.

“Ah, so I see.” Takao leans back in his seat and looks over at Midorima. “Like father, like son, huh? What’s his sign?”

“Scorpio.”

“Ehh? You didn’t tell me he was a Scorpio!” Takao turns back to Shou. “I’m a Scorpio too! What a coincidence! Do you have the lucky item for today?”

At that, Shou brightens. He straightens up with an excited “yes!” before turning to his backpack to retrieve a large gold coin. “Scorpio’s lucky item for today is a five yen coin. We’re ranked third. Father’s ranked tenth, but he has his lucky item too.” He points to a stuffed rabbit sitting on the table next to Midorima’s right hand. “That’s actually mine, but I let Father borrow it, because it’s Cancer’s lucky item.”

It’s strange to see Shou talking so animately. Of course, as his father, Midorima has seen him in this joyous state before, but he hasn’t seen it in a while now. A part of him wants to blame himself, but he can’t help it. The hospital’s long hours keep him up past Shou’s bedtime, so even if he were to go home early, Shou would be much too tired to respond in such a manner. But it’s all right. Everything’s fine.

_Everything’s fine like this_.

(Except it really isn’t.)

When he sees Takao joking with Shou and Shou responding with laughter, Midorima can’t help but feel as if he’s been punched in the gut. Their joy, their intimacy — he doesn’t like it. He almost fires Takao in the spur of the moment, but the surge of his envy is only temporary. A deep breath and a simple mind later, he clears his throat and catches their attention.

“Let’s get back to business.”

Two hours pass before Takao gets the full story, and as they walk back to Midorima’s home, Shou skipping ahead, Takao leans over and tells Midorima, “Y’know, he’s actually a really good kid.”

And Midorima replies, “I wouldn’t know.” His words are, quite obviously, stiff with unresolved regret, but he doesn’t let that bother him when he goes on to say, “Stealing is unacceptable behavior.”

“Of course, it is but — that’s not what I’m talking about.” Takao tilts his head, grins a bit. “He has a good heart. Stealing his lucky items so he doesn’t have to bother you. You only give him enough for lunch, but ah, that’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

They come to a standstill in front of a traffic light. Silence falls between them for a moment then —

“Shou, what’s your lucky item tomorrow?”

His son turns to him. “I — um. A world map. I can probably borrow one from Nee-chan.” He turns red, understandably since he had just admitted to taking some of Nee-chan’s belongings two hours ago. “I-I mean, if .. if she’s okay with it.”

“You can use the map in my study.”

“R-Really? But you said that was ..”

“I’ll make an exception this time.”

The traffic light turns, and they walk on. It’s then, five minutes later, that Takao finally says something: “Shin-chan.”

Midorima doesn’t bother looking over as he answers, “What?”

“You have a good heart too.”

They don’t talk much after that, and when they arrive at Midorima’s place, Shou goes off to take a shower, leaving them alone in the kitchen. The light beats down on each of them respectively, but only Midorima appears under the spotlight. He tugs at his collar then adjusts the cuffs of his sleeves. While he shuffles to find a more comfortable position under Takao’s steady gaze, Takao speaks up: “He told me you’re not around a lot.”

Midorima stops shifting then. “Doctors have inconvenient hours.”

“They need to cut you some slack.”

“I can manage.”

Takao props his elbow on the table and rests his head in the palm of his hand. “Shin-chan,” he begins to say, but before he can continue, Midorima cuts him off with a curt “Shut up, Takao.”

He knows what Takao’s about to say, and he doesn’t want to hear it. It’s been five years since that _incident_ , and he would much rather avoid talking about it. Call it bitterness, call it disappointment — but what it was, was betrayal. He should have known from the beginning.  She was a Libra. Cancers and Libras aren’t compatible. Funny thing is, they were compatible once. For four years, in fact. But something clicked, something changed, and the next thing he knew, she was overseas in America. He hasn’t attempted to contact her all these years. There’s no point. If she didn’t care enough to stay for Shou, then she didn’t care enough at all. By now, Midorima has accepted that, but there’s still this part of him that resents her for what she has done to their family.

Takao doesn’t try bringing it up again, because with one subtle glance and another soundless whisper, Takao understands. This is the relationship they have. After three years of playing basketball together, they had gotten to know each other more than anyone else. To call Takao a _friend_ — especially after all they’ve been through, all the battles they have lost — would be an insult.

But that was almost twenty years ago. Perhaps things have changed since then. For instance, he’s a father and a doctor. He lives in a nice house, thanks to his parents’ money; and he has not one, but two cars — one that’s in his name, and the other collecting dust. Life, up until this point, has been agonizingly simple. There’s no more practice to attend, no more games to win. If anything, life has become boring, and he can only wonder if Takao has similar sentiments. Takao’s a lawyer but not just any lawyer. A juvenile lawyer. He wants to start a family with a nice girl and have two daughters, but he’s in no rush. For him, thirty-four is still young. He wants to have fun before settling down.

They’ve always been opposites. What Midorima does, Takao doesn’t. What Takao says, Midorima disagrees. The more he thinks about their relationship, the colder he feels. They are connected through their understanding of each other, but they are only bounded by this case.

“I’ll go to the juvenile detention center tomorrow and see what I can do. If all goes well, we should have a court date set within the next two weeks.”

Takao must have gotten a sense of the strange air that surrounds them, because after he makes his promises, he stands and grabs his bag. “Ah, well. I don’t want to keep you up too long. You have to wake up early don’t you? What was it, six in the morning? Man, they really do need to cut you some slack! I can’t even get up at ten!”

He slings his bag over his shoulder. “Call me if you need any —”

“Have you found a hotel?”

Takao sucks in air through his teeth. “I didn’t have time, since I met you right after I got off the train —”

“Stay here.”

Midorima can, at the very least, offer his hospitality for calling Takao out on such short notice.

“Wait, really? I mean, it’s fine —”

“I won’t offer again.”

“Okay, okay! I’ll stay, I’ll stay! I didn’t think you missed me that much!”

And amidst the cold, amidst the “shut up, Takao” and the “don’t be like that, Shin-chan,” things start to _spin_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still kind of brushing up on these characters otl it's been too long guys  
> & sorry for the late update! thank you all for your comments / kudos /support!  
> you guys are the best ; v; <3

**Author's Note:**

> SO HEYYY IT'S BEEN THREE YEARS since i last wrote something for knb whoops  
> & i kinda feel like it's been a while since i've written anything so i'm still brushing up
> 
> also fyi im not getting much on the legal system in japan so im sorta going off  
> the american system bc that's the one im familiar with so otl sorry for any inaccuracies
> 
> nevertheless, thank you bunches for reading!! <3


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